The snow was falling in huge wet chunks by the time I left work. I drove carefully home, resisting the urge to illegally pass the car driving 20 miles below the speed limit. I passed the entrance to my neighborhood and pulled into the funeral home. Half an hour before the calling hours were over and the parking lot was nearly full.
I walked past groups of strangers talking in hushed tones, signed the guest book, and stood in line to greet the family. I hugged The Best Temp Ever and met her beautiful, polite daughter. Then I moved down the line to her younger sister, married to a short, round man who in no way resembles the guy I graduated high school with.
I paused briefly near the open casket to look at the man I'd never met. He was six years younger than my own much-loved father. Feeling shaken, I stepped back into the snowy night.